Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 386: Got Your Proof?

"Prove it." One of them barked. "We’ve heard stories, sure. But you could just be talkin’ big."

Ren narrowed his eyes. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"Then I hope you’re ready to see proof."

He stepped forward, the movement deliberate, his boots clicking against the floor with a quiet thud that somehow echoed.

His eyes locked on the big Knight, his expression dark. And then, with nothing more than presence alone, the room shifted.

An oppressive weight blanketed the air.

The gang of Knights stepped back instinctively, the bravado draining from their faces as a sudden, overwhelming sense of danger rolled off Ren like heat off a forge. The temperature didn’t rise, but everyone in the room started sweating.

The formerly drunk Knight froze, his mouth hanging open as he stared into Ren’s green eyes, eyes that now held none of the warmth or tiredness from earlier.

Silence followed.

Then, with a long, audible sigh, Ren relaxed his shoulders. The atmosphere instantly disappeared.

"Look," Ren said, voice bored. "I’m not in the mood to waste power proving a point. Not when my stomach’s growling louder than your ego."

He flicked his fingers lazily. "Send someone to check. You gangs should have information networks and shit like that. The district office. Ask about what happened yesterday. It won’t take long."

The drunk Knight opened his mouth to argue, but one of the other gang members stepped forward and slapped his arm.

"Do it. If they’re lying, we’ll know."

Grumbling, one of the younger members was nudged toward the door. He shot Ren a nervous glance before slipping outside and vanishing into the early evening streets.

Ren turned without concern, waving a hand toward the bar.

"Innkeeper!" He called. "Let’s try this again. Dinner for three. Hearty. Hot. And if possible, something with meat."

The innkeeper popped out from behind the counter where he’d been hiding, eyes wide, nodding so quickly it looked like his head might fall off.

"Y- Yes! Right away, sir!"

As the man darted back toward the kitchen, the gang of Knights stood in awkward silence, trying to look menacing again but failing in the face of Ren’s indifference.

The drunk Knight stepped up behind Ren, trying to reassert dominance, his chest puffed out as he towered over the shorter man.

"You think you’re special just ’cause you got lucky?" he growled. "You think Carthage gives a damn who—"

He stopped speaking mid-sentence as Ren turned slightly, placing a single hand on the man’s shoulder.

The effect was immediate.

The man gasped, knees buckling as an invisible pressure crushed him from above. It was as if gravity had turned on him, forcing him down toward the floor. He groaned, face reddening, struggling just to breathe.

"See," Ren said calmly, eyes focused on the bar, "this is what happens when people talk too much."

He increased the pressure from the Push resonance slightly. The man let out a sharp cry, crumpling fully onto the wooden floor, his hands slapping against it in a desperate attempt to stay conscious.

"Ren," Lilith said from her stool with a raised eyebrow. "You’re going to make him pee himself."

Ren finally looked down at the man, then clicked his tongue and removed the Push resonance on him.

The drunk Knight gasped like he’d been drowning, collapsing on the floor in a heap of trembling limbs.

"Know your place," Ren muttered.

The tension in the room hit a boiling point. Hands were twitching toward weapons. A few of the Knights looked ready to leap into a fight, despite the fear glimmering in their eyes.

Lilith crossed her legs, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of her throwing knives. Her eyes never left the room.

Thorn cracked his knuckles, standing behind Ren like a mountain of silent promise.

Before anything could spark, the door to the inn slammed open.

The gang member who had left earlier came sprinting in, panting hard, his eyes wide.

"They were telling the truth," he blurted, barely able to catch his breath. "The district office is still being repaired. Heard the officials themselves confirm it."

The gang stared.

Ren turned fully now, looking at each of them in turn.

"You really want to fight someone who the city’s soldiers already have eyes on?" he asked. "Because I promise you, I won’t be the one hunted if something happens to me. You will."

One of the other gang members hissed under their breath. The tension slowly began to leak out of the room, replaced by unease and reluctance.

The leader of the group stepped back, shooting the drunk Knight a glare.

"Get up. We’re done here."

The man struggled to his feet, avoiding Ren’s gaze.

As they turned to go, the leader gave Ren one last look.

"You got lucky. Don’t think it’ll happen again."

Ren smirked. "Luck? Nah. That was restraint."

The gang exited one by one, the door swinging closed behind them.

Moments later, the innkeeper returned with three steaming plates of food and three mugs of ale. He set them down quickly, still wide-eyed.

Ren leaned back in his seat, finally allowing himself to exhale.

"Now," he said, picking up his fork. "Let’s eat."

[][][][][]

A pine forest, somewhere on the Arondale mountain range.

Death walked alone through the pine-laced quiet of this section of the Arondale range, each of his steps muffled by the dense bed of needles beneath his boots.

Around him, the world was quiet. Birds fell mid-flight, their feathers drifting like ash. Squirrels dropped silently from trees, and even the insects curled up and died.

The forest dimmed, color draining from the underbrush as if nature itself had chosen to bow out of his presence.

The aura he exuded wasn’t a wave of malice. It was inevitability. Death wasn’t angry. He simply was.

He didn’t notice the silence. He didn’t need to. The burning feeling under his skin was enough.

The reason they were all on this damned mountain range. To stop the itch from eating them up from the inside.

The Search made things easier. But it didn’t stop it.

He froze without looking up, his chin tilting as he felt something stir against the edge of his perception.

His hands slid into the long sleeves of his dark robe. His eyes, grey like ashes left in the wind, narrowed.

Something was coming.

No... someones.